A brilliant light in the dark: Lev Grossman's The Bright Sword

More than a decade ago, I had dinner with a man who claimed to be the rightful King of France, and spent a couple of hours parsing just what that meant. As the story went, Marie Antoinette wasn't executed during the French Revolution, but instead was smuggled away to Quebec, where she bore the son of King Louis XVI, and his bloodline persisted to this kitchen in northern Vermont.

It was an entertaining story, but it's one of those evenings that has stuck in my head ever since. It was a lesson in how stories persist, and one that helped me understand why royal power structures: the belief that their members could trace their lineages back to divine origins, and that their rule over their subjects was not just because of military or political power, from God.

I was reminded of that night while reading Lev Grossman's new novel The Bright Sword, his take on Arthurian legend, in which he dissects the nature of royalty and power, and how King Arthur sits at a moment of profound transition in the story of England's identity. It's a novel about an ever-changing world and how we use stories to contend as the world grows up around us.

Grossman opens the novel with a start. Collum, an aspiring knight hoping to join King Arthur's Round Table at Camelot, is challenged by another knight on the road, and the two engage in a heated duel. With his Magicians novels, Grossman explored and subverted a number of classic fantasy tropes, and this fight isn't a throwback to the romantic, chivalric  clashes between armored knights; it's a brutal, exhausting, and dangerous engagement, one in which Collum is ultimately the victor, but confused and somewhat dismayed at what he just endured. From there, he continues along the road, eventually making his way to the fabled castle, only to discover that he's too late: Arthur has apparently been slain and whisked off to Avalon, leaving England with an absence on the throne.

The knights who remain now have a monumental task ahead of them: figure out who can succeed Arthur, and with Collum coming along for the ride, they work figure out how to go about identifying such a person. In the hands of another novelist, this is a story that could easily fall into the pattern of any one of the major fantasy tomes: a problem confronts the world, the heroes assemble, set off and encounter troubles, and ultimately vanquish their foes when they accomplish what they set out to do. There's a quest in The Bright Sword, but it feels like Grossman isn't interested in solving the problem of locating Arthur's successor and he's penned a book that's after something deeper: an examination of the people who make up the legends and their motivations, delving into questions of the nature of heroics, of leadership, of bravery, and of knowing when to hold onto the stories and when to move on from them. It's a complicated, meandering, and fascinating story.

The best stories lie at a moment of transition in their fictional worlds: a before and after. Grossman's England lies at the intersection of many such transitions: England as a folkloric, Celtic land and the arrival of the Romans. King Arthur's rise to power as a wise and fair leader and the collapse of civilization after his demise. Plenty of aspiring knights who come into their own and work and fight and change to become members of the legendary Round Table. Grossman follows the story of Collum as he and his companions make their way through England on their journey, encountering not only fellow knights and dangers along the way, but creatures and beings from other parts of England (real and faerie) who are desperately trying to hold onto their way of lives.

Along the way, we're pulled off the path to explore the stories of Collum's companions, like Sir Bedivere (who is besotted with Arthur), Sir Palomides (who arrived from Turkey), Sir Dinadin (a trans knight who's story is probably the most fascinating of the lot), Sir Dagonet and Sir Constantine (who are on the hunt for the Holy Grail), with other familiar figures like Lancelot, Guinevere, Merlin, Morgan le Fay, Bedivere, Mordred popping up along the way.

These side stories are more than just indulgences, designed to provide window dressing for Grossman's England. They provide context and and motivation for the strange group that's assembled. It's a complicated mix of people, but their individual journeys spell out not only how they arrived at Camelot, but what's driven them to reach that point and what drives them to continue forward, even when all hope feels lost.

At the heart of their quest is the search for some sign from God of a successor: trying to find someone as worthy as Arthur while maintaining the divine stamp of approval. But again, Grossman complicates the story as the knights head off to search for the Holy Grail and the Lance – the last remnants of a divine world that seems to be passing into legend and mythos. As the knights eventually discover, the quest to restore the throne with a True King isn't as straight-forward as they initially thought.

What was it about Arthur that made him a good ruler? He was chosen by God through the act of pulling a sword from a stone and later by claiming Excalibur from the Lady of the Lake and eventually united England, but it's through his actions – not God's – that he accomplishes this. Indeed, there's a point where Arthur is frustrated by the act of ruling England, complaining about important duties like currency reform, land surveys, naval construction, judicial corruption, and so forth. He's restless and would much rather be out questing.

Grossman uses this to illustrate some interesting points along the way: Arthur sets out on a quest and encounters a decaying kingdom not under his rule. The dying ruler was punished for daring to touch the Holy Lance: nothing grows in his land, and he's in incredible pain, but cannot die. Arthur's solution is to slay the king, telling his surviving children that sometimes, a king needs to know when to step aside for the good of his people. It's a vivid lesson, but Grossman complicates it when he revisits it later in the novel: Arthur recognizes that his decision was brash and impulsive, and while it seemed to work, it wasn't an action that he had any right to take. In a later moment, Arthur rages at the emptiness of his existence when a knight is horrifically wounded during a joust. "Arthur felt is mood darkening. That a man should lose an eye, and for what? A game, played for nothing."

All of these threads play with the notion of power and how it flows from a central point, be it divine favor, military power, or of the accumulation of knowledge. Grossman's characters are all trying to figure out how to maneuver in the midst of vacuum of power, drawing on their own pasts and the legends that they grew up with to guide them, all while forces greater than them, such as agents from the fae who're worried about the barriers between their worlds breaking down, geopolitical forces like the arrival of the Anglo-Saxons, and pagans enacting ancient and long-sighted plans, have assembled to try and figure out who will inherit control over the land at this fragile and transitional moment.

With all of that humming along in the background, Grossman adds on another layer: the power that comes from the stories of these various characters, histories, and lore. Collum is consumed with the idea of becoming a knight: it helps him drag himself from the moldering castle where he was dumped off at as a child, and gives him the path forward towards greatness. Grossman uses each of the side stories from the various knights to dissect the nature of heroics, trying to come to an understanding that it's these narratives that underpin the morals that drive each of these strange knights. Heroics aren't just the brave actions that these characters take: it's the lessons that they learn from their actions: the strength they discover within themselves that then allows them to apply themselves as they seek to control England and adjust to the changes happening around them.

That's a powerful story in and of itself, told against the backdrop of a tumultuous time in the world as countries around the world (especially England) try and figure out their identities and resolve to govern their subjects and build a safe and fair world for all. In many ways, Arthur has long been something of a blank slate that storytellers have used to further their visions of the world: in his absence in this book, Grossman proves to be an excellent guide for trying to tackle these massive themes of identity and heroism and character as we muddle our way forward in a grim and dark world. The idea that power isn't granted by divine hands is a transitional idea itself. The story of wise and just men and women who learn from their stories and lives and lead us into a brighter world is far more compelling way forward than those who only lament the loss of what they feel should be theirs, but do nothing to earn it. The Bright Sword is a powerful tale about power and rule, but also the heavy responsibility and burden that accompanies it.

The Bright Sword is out on July 16th.